


(Mis)Understanding and a No-Good Woman

by Wolfsheart



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Beer, M/M, Tension, Unresolved Tension, Walk Into A Bar, Whiskey - Freeform, bitching about the girlfriend, inappropriate bathroom behavior, inappropriate bathroom etiquette, matching drink for drink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsheart/pseuds/Wolfsheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott finds himself at The Box after another fight with Jean over her flirting, which she sees as perfectly fine, and contemplates their relationship.  Logan plays with boundaries and doesn’t quite understand urinal etiquette.  But this is definitely a fic that embraces “bros before hos.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Mis)Understanding and a No-Good Woman

They’d fought.  Again.  It never mattered how much he sacrificed for her.  It never mattered that he took her feelings into account every time they went out and a woman made eyes at him or flirted.  He knew it made her uncomfortable, jealous; it made her feel vulnerable and insecure, so he never responded beyond a polite nod or simple hello.  Just for propriety’s sake.  Did she give him the same consideration, though?  Did  _she_  give a shit enough about his feelings or comfort?

Scott set the pint glass onto the bar a little harder than he intended, sloshing the last bit of backwash against the sides before he pushed it away, gesturing to the bartender for another.  His ruby-lensed eyes flicked up long enough to see the concern – or maybe it was disapproval – from the willowy woman with shortly cropped green-dyed hair (he thought he was dyed, in The Box, it could be natural), but she took his glass anyway and set another beer in front of him.  He curled his fingers around the glass, stared into the foam then guzzled down half in one swallow, making a mental count.   _Four_.

“Give me one of what he’s having, unless it’s that piss-weak stuff.”

The voice was gruff.  Raspy.  Familiar.

“Of all the gin joints,” Scott snarked without even looking.  He didn’t have to look.  With that voice and the heavy scent of cigar, leather and motorcycle grease, he never had to look.

He expected an insult to be flung at him.   _You’re a dick, One-Eye_.  He heard that one enough along with a phrasebook of other vulgar pleasantries.   _Better see Hank about surgically removing that stick up your ass._ That was another one that unfortunately others seemed to pick up on and refer to often.

 _And your mother fucked Sasquatch’s dwarf brother_.  No one had been expecting that one to come out of the boy scout, and that alone had filled Scott with a sense of victory, especially when he’d caught the crack of a smile on  _his_ face while everyone else gasped and told the young leader to behave himself.  Jean had been particularly pissed about that one and went to Logan to offer “comfort.”

“Ain’t here for gin.  Not tonight,” Logan returned the retort and grasped his glass to bring it to his lips just as Scott was finishing off his beer.  He drank this one slowly.  “Problems at home, Slim?”

Scott started to steel his shoulders and put on an indifferent expression.  He didn’t want Logan to know that there was that kind of opening for him to lunge through.  Or maybe he did.  That would solve a problem once and for all, wouldn’t it?

“No problems at all, Logan.  Nothing out of the ordinary,” was all he said before he finished his beer then tapped the bar and gestured again.   _Five_.  Perhaps he should stop.  Scott did have to make it back to the school, after all, and he’d be damned if he was letting  _Logan_  drive his car, especially not with him shitfaced and having to ride as a passenger.  

They drank silently, side by side, four shoulders slumped over their drinks, cigar smoke drifting over to fill Scott’s nostrils until he thought he’d puke.  It didn’t take long for Logan to nip at his heels on beer count, not to mention the older mutant added in a shot or two of bourbon, compelling Scott to request two for himself, too.  And another beer.   _Six_.  He knew Logan kept looking at him; he could feel it like a sixth sense he didn’t really have.  It surprised him that Logan didn’t insult him this time.  It didn’t feel like he was being sized up, at least, not as a threat.  Was Logan…sizing him up for…?  No.  Just.  _No_.

At one point, Scott glanced over when he noticed Logan getting up, and he thought their silent drinking partnership had ended, but the other mutant just walked over to the jukebox, dropped in several quarters, and returned to the sound of George Thorogood that just seemed to sexify his strut just a little more than normal.  It bothered Scott that he could think the term ‘sexify’ in regards to Logan, but it wasn’t the first time.  He returned his eyes to his beer and noticed that there was just a swallow left, so he downed it, let the glass drop back to the thin coaster and eyed the bartender – as much as he could through his shades – until the man walked over to refill.   _Seven_.

“Don’t ya think you’ve had enough, Scott?” Logan asked.

It wasn’t even condescending, as if Logan didn’t think he could hold his liquor.  There was genuine concern that made Scott’s brows furrow until the spot of skin above his nose crinkled in his confusion.  The concern made him feel warm all over and not in the way he usually felt when he was feverish or about to puke.

“I’m fine.”  He took a drink of the full glass before anything else could be said.  Drank more down.  More.  More.  Then it was gone, and he stood up as he set the glass back on the bar and nodded to one more when the barkeep looked over.  “Don’t let anyone drink my beer,” Scott told Logan when the other man looked at him with an arched eyebrow.  “In fact, don’t you fuckin’ drink my beer either.  I’ll be back.”

Scott made it to the bathroom without stumbling over his own feet, so he couldn’t be that fucked up.  After a piss, he’d probably be good for another seven if he paced himself.  He stood at one of two urinals, unzipped and pulled his cock out, letting out the breath he was holding once he heard the steady stream.  He rested his other hand on the wall and leaned forward a little, allowing his thoughts to wander back to Jean and their current fight.  He couldn’t even blame her this time; who wouldn’t hit on Warren when he was around?  The man had everything Scott didn’t – looks, cars, money, access to a company that could give Jean the job of her dreams where she could exercise her skills and intellect that she’d studied for.  Scott was, essentially, a teacher.  A teacher with prestige and a pilot’s license, but a teacher nonetheless.

Then there was Logan, and he wasn’t even thinking about the problem Logan posed between Jean and him.  His thoughts roamed over the problem that Logan posed for his sense of self and sexuality, especially now that his thoughts drifted to the times he’d seen the guy half-dressed or naked altogether after a training session.  Sweat rolling over those muscles until he stepped into the shower to let the water do the same.  And the side looks that Logan gave him…and the smiles out of the blue when Scott would say something particularly sarcastic.

He closed his eyes tight and just tried to concentrate on getting out the beer in his kidneys to make room for more.  Scott didn’t have Logan’s heightened sense of smell, so he didn’t even realize anymore that he wasn’t alone until he was deafened by the fast stream next to him.  That’s when the pungent odor of cigar and beer hit him, and didn’t even have to look to see who it was or wonder why he couldn’t even get a moment away from Logan to piss.

“She’s not worth it, ya know.”

“Logan…really?  You pick  _now_  to corner me about this shit?  And who’s watching my beer?  I thought you were my friend,” Scott grumbled and just tried to finish.  Were his kidneys holding every drop of beer he’d had since he turned twenty-one?  There was a deep chuckle followed by a zipper being pulled back up then the water running in the sink.  Logan was more hygienic than Scott gave him credit for.

“I paid the tab…for both of us.  Don’t worry,” Logan answered.  “And I figured ya wouldn’t want to talk about Red out there where every ear can pick it up.  Ya know how much mutants love gossip,” he teased and leaned against the sink.

So he was just going to stand there while Scott peed.   _Great_.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  It’s not even worth hashing out anymore.  She is who she is.  Now it’s time to be who I am, I guess,” he said and finally gave sigh when it was over.

Before he could tuck himself gracefully back into his jeans, Scott felt the intrusion of arms around his waist and hands not his own doing for him what he was about to do for himself.  He was too stunned to turn, step away or even elbow Logan in the gut, not that it would have done much good, so he just stood there, waiting to see what the fuck was about to happen.

“It’s about damned time, One-Eye.  Bravo.  Brav- _o_ ,” Logan told the younger mutant while easing that cock back into his jeans and zipping up, but his voice was softer somehow, less intimidating, less mocking.

Though…

“I’m not really sure I’m comfortable with you calling me One-Eye while you’re handling my dick, Logan,” Scott protested, but he still didn’t move himself out of the circumference of Logan’s arms or grasp.  He swallowed when that meaty hand cupped his package once he was secured inside his denim then coughed when the older man gave him a pat and leaned close until Scott felt warm breath on the back of his neck.  “But…uh…thanks?  For your support…”  He heard what he said and realized how ridiculous that was while Logan’s hand was still against his groin, and Scott let out a laugh that seemed to break up some of the tension in his chest.

Logan’s grin could be felt against the back of his shoulder.  “Not a problem, bub,” he growled.

That was when he tugged back the neck of Scott’s t-shirt with his teeth and promptly sunk them into the younger mutant’s skin, sucking at him until he’d raised both a deep red mark and a shaky moan from his teammate.  One hand slipped under Scott’s shirt and splayed across that taut stomach while the other remained cupped against the kid’s cock, and Logan pressed his own denim-clad groin to the other man’s firm ass, having to rise a bit on his toes.  “C’mon…I’ll buy ya one more drink…a quick one…then drive ya home.  You can…keep thankin’ me  _later_ ,” Logan murmured, his warm beer-breath soothing across the sting of the love bite he’d left on Scott’s flesh.

Scott could only nod, his own teeth clenched over his bottom lip to hold in the deeper moans that wanted to come out.  He thought it would only be a matter of time before someone else had to come in, and accepting of mutants or not, there weren’t a lot of guys who wanted to walk in on what Logan was doing to him or what Logan  _could_  do to him in here – even if the idea was hot and turned Scott on.

“One more drink…then home,” he finally managed to agree out loud.

“Right then,” Logan growled and released Scott, smirking when he caught the soft whimper of disappointment, but for the kid’s sake, he pretended he didn’t.  For now.  He backed away and gave Scott the chance to turn around, and then he let the kid file out first before he followed at a discreet distance.

*******

Later, just before dawn pinked the horizon, Scott rolled over onto his side in an unfamiliar bed but next to a very familiar bulk.  He ached all over and the body hair that brushed against his back was oddly comforting to the series of bite marks left across his shoulders, down along his spine and that one straggler on his left ass cheek.  There was no shock or regret caused by hangover memories, just the grumble of one unwilling to wake up as he snuggled back into the cradle of Logan’s body and the smile of being gripped in possessive arms before he let his head sink once more into the pillows.


End file.
